Blessed
by IAmLeFrosti
Summary: He was just an ordinary kid in a school with extraordinary children until he went up that mountain.


**A/N: Hey! So this is my first proper fanfiction, sort of an Alternate Universe story of Fruity Robo where instead of fruit blobs they're people, and they don't have robots. They have abilities that are heavily based off of the classical elements and the Chinese Wuxing minus the ever changing states of energy type thing and the generating/weakening loop because I don't know how to make metal weaken wood in a logical physical way. Arguably, the main children are based off of bagua minus one character who can control plant life. However, I didn't limit myself. One of the characters can read minds, while another person has the power to control opposite forces and sense the yin/yang balance/imbalance in an area.**

 **Of course, heavy spoilers for Fruity Musketeers as well as Fruity Robo seasons 1 and 2, and potentially 3. Not everything is based perfectly off of canon; I took quite a few creative liberties for effect. However, the spoiler warning still stands.**

 **Also, the fic is written entirely** _ **in English**_ **. I would leave you guys guessing about who's who but BlueArc may sue me so here are the names I'll be using:**

 **(They're still fruit based names. I'm too lazy to rename them.)**

 **Protagonists:**

 **Musketeers:**

🍊 **橙留香** **=Mandarine (sometimes referred to as "Mandy" for short)**

🍍 **菠萝吹雪** **=Pineapplello (I often just call him "Pineap", though I don't know if the nickname will be canon in this story.)**

🍏 **陆小果** **=Applo (Again, I call him "Ap" for short, but I'm not sure if the nickname will pop up.)**

 **Female Musketeers:**

🍓 **上官子怡** **=Berry Dona (YES, the Berry prefix will stick. Often just called "Dona".)**

🍑 **梨花诗** **=Flora**

🍇 **花如意** **=Blossomy**

🍍 **菠萝小薇** **=Mary (That's her "proper name", she is usually called "Pina".)**

" **Elders":**

 **(Insert Coconut)** **疯清扬方丈** **=Professor Nutty Maddo**

 **(Insert Green Plum)** **天山果姥** **=Mistress Plum**

🍉 **英雄师父** **=Master Melon (first name Hiro)**

🍌 **无极师父** **=Master Banana (first name No-Bound. Again I didn't make these up.)**

 **(Insert Mangosteen)** **夜燕老师** **=Mistress Oracle (I didn't make this up.)**

 **Antagonists:**

 **[Revealed later]**

 **(Insert Pitaya)** **东方求败** **=Lord Pitaya**

 **Criminal Four:**

 **(Insert Sugarcane)** **天下无贼** **=Bane**

 **(Insert Sugarcane)** **乱臣贼子** **=Trouble (I like this one.)**

 **(Insert Sugarcane)** **认贼作父** **=Double T (I didn't make this up.)**

 **(Insert Sugarcane)** **贼眉鼠眼** **=Sneaky (I didn't make this up either.)**

 **Additional Antagonists (Not sure if they'll be involved in the fic but I'll list them anyways):**

🍋 **(He's technically a lime)** **刀疤脸** **=Scar Face**

 **(He's a Ginkgo fruit. No idea what that is.)** **斜眼狼** **=Squint Wolf**

 **Neutral:**

 **Extras/Utility Men:**

 **(Insert Sugarcane)** **小果叮** **=Fringo**

 **(Almost used the Chestnut Emoji. Insert Almond)** **吴杏儿** **=Almondie**

 **(Insert Papaya)** **木瓜小子** **=Papaya Kid**

🍇 **葡萄小子** **=Grape Kid**

 **(Insert Blueberry)** **蓝莓村长** **=Blueberry Chief**

 **[This list will be updated as their powers (or lack of powers) as well as other plot related things are revealed.]**

 _Chapter 1: Ordinary_

Fire.

A flickering ball of flame in his bare hands, scorching hot but somehow sparing his naked fingers.

That was generations ago.

The story about K never failed to fascinate Mandarine, no matter how many times they were shared before the fireplace in hushed voices as he and his parents struggled to keep warm in their one set of clothing and single, shared blanket. He was a normal kid with normal kid dreams, and it was no secret he wanted to be a Pyro and throw flames around like K used to do more than a millennium before. K was considered the epitome of strength and justice in their household, so, naturally, Mandarine strived to be just like this ancient man. His father often claimed that the first step to being a second K was surviving their horrid conditions while still maintaining their dignity, something Mandarine thought he was doing quite well.

Inside their tiny cabin, only words of encouragement existed. Outside, people were the exact opposite. Nobody outside of their family believed for a second that Mandarine inherited K's powers. Mandarine understood where they came from. He was a poor child born into a poor family with barely enough food to survive on, too poor to buy much food yet far too proud to beg. (The prospect of them being desperate enough to steal was so horrifying, nobody in his family considered it for even a moment.) Why would he, a stubborn, stupid child with no talents, inherit these powers, when so many before him didn't? (Alright, perhaps he was stronger than most kids and could play the violin decently well. That still wasn't nearly enough.) Despite the fact that Mandarine was a direct descendent of the great Pyro, K's skills and powers had been lost for generations upon generations, and nearly everyone believed that his mystical powers had been drowned out by layers upon layers of ordinary genes. There was no way they could've reached Mandarine, not after so many years.

In all honesty, Mandarine agreed with them. He wasn't utterly useless, but he knew he wasn't a Pyro either. Mandarine had no powers, no abilities, and was in every way, shape, and form what the lucky lottery winners would call "ordinary". In fact, he was so ordinary that to many, he was considered "lame". He would never get to bask in the glory of being a well respected fire god. But it didn't matter to him. He could always gain respect a different way.

Anyways, even if he were "lame", it didn't mean he was powerless. Years of struggling to survive while his parents looked for jobs led to him growing a very strong backbone. He had always been able to rely on his physical strength and his unshakably righteous heart, which were enough to get him off of the streets and into the small cabin where he lived now, and would eventually be enough to get him even further. He told himself that, in the future, through hard work and dedication, he _would_ accomplish great things and become a national hero, whether he'd be a Pyro or not. This he genuinely believed.

Mandarine's mentality was confusing, even to himself. He had always been fully aware of the fact that he was _not_ a Pyro and that he would never be anything more than an ordinary person, yet, despite that, he still sometimes wished he were something more. Don't get him wrong; he was alright with being ordinary, but he would be more alright if he were extraordinary. Mandarine knew the chances of him being a Pyro were infinitely low, yet the fact that there was a chance at all kept him on the lookout for signs and opportunities. However, as winters blew by and the moon waxed and waned, his dreams about levitating balls of flame faded away as he became more and more rooted to the present. He held onto them by no more than the thinnest thread, for he still wasn't _quite_ ready to let it all go. Nevertheless, he had long come to terms with his lameness. Despite what many people believed, he found nothing wrong with being normal and not having supernatural abilities; it just meant he had to work a little harder than the lucky one percent of the population if he wanted to go down in history.

Right when the thread was about to snap, his world was turned on its head.

Mandarine's parents were arguably the most supportive parents on the planet.

Don't get him wrong, he loved his parents so incredibly much. They gave him strength during the times of trouble and kept him alive even though they were dying themselves. They never gave up faith in him, even when he'd given up himself, which wasn't very often, but that was besides the point.

There was only one problem.

They genuinely, wholeheartedly believed he would one day become a Pyro.

One time, in order to "prove" that he had supernatural fire abilities, his father lit his only T-shirt aflame. Mandarine was annoyed but also curious, so for a moment he stood there, wanting to see if the fire would burn him or not. At first, it was fine, but it quickly became much, much, less than fine. After a second of being relatively docile, the fire flared without warning, causing his head to start spinning and the world to turn on its axis. He heard screams and cries of panic, not from outside but from within himself, and instinctively dropped to the ground. Panicking, he rolled around on the coarse dirt in an effort to put out the fire and didn't stop until long after it had been smothered. He came out of the incident crying but relatively unscathed. However, his shirt was a full two inches shorter.

Mandarine wished they weren't so enthusiastic about fire, because he knew he would disappoint them with his ordinariness and didn't want that.

He also wished he hadn't seen their faces after that particular fire had been put out.

He knew something was off from the moment he woke up.

His parents were smiling far too much. There was too much food on the table. He had been asked to bathe that morning and was told to bring the hard-boiled _eggs,_ which were on the counter, to the breakfast table.

Eggs were reserved for birthdays, New Years, and Festivals because of how difficult they were to obtain. Mandarine's ninth birthday had passed less than a week before. So many eggs in such a short time? There _had_ to be a reason why his parent would take the extra effort to get the food.

He was determined to find out.

He took the eggs off the counter and walked over to join his parents at the table, placing an egg inside each of the three wooden bowls. He pulled out his chair, causing the floorboard to complain briefly, and sat down. His parents glanced at him and then exchanged a long look, communicating to each other without uttering a single word, and then both turned back to him again.

"Mandarine, we've been waiting for this day for a long time," his father began, after a deep breath. Mandarine had no idea what was significant about this day, and felt a little bit nervous. His father seemed almost mystified, similar, he recalled, to the way he seemed when Mandarine's shirt first burst into flame.

"Mandarine. You are now nine." his mother declared, in a voice that Mandarine feel like an unprepared prince about to be crowned King. "You are finally of age for school!"

Mandarine frowned. "Mom, the school-age is six."

His mother smiled and explained, "Maybe for normal kids, but for special kids like you, the age is nine."

Mandarine was glad they had so much faith in him, but at the same time he felt bad, because he was going to let them down. He never enjoyed having to tell his parents about how he lacked abilities, but, at the same time, he didn't like getting credit when he didn't deserve it. He was normal, which was fine. He could still do great things even if he's normal. But his parents cared so much about him being unique, he felt like he wasn't meeting their standards, even though he had worked very hard and had surpassed all expectations. Telling them he was normal made him feel guilty, even though he didn't have any control over whether or not he inherited the powers. But he had to; he couldn't let them go on believing that lie.

He took a breath and muttered, "Mom, Dad, I'm normal. I can't go to a school for special children. But just because I'm normal doesn't mean I'm useless," he added hastily, "I'll work twice as hard to make you guys proud. I'll figure out how to go down in history books without fire abilities."

His parents stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded, he guessed, their faces completely expressionless. He lowered his head in shame and took a bite out of the egg so he didn't have to speak. He had disappointed them. He had literally _just_ declared he'd make them proud too!

Without warning, his parents' faces contorted and both broke into howling laughter. Mandarine's face flushed and he stopped chewing. He had no idea how to react.

"Son, you are the best. So humble!" His father managed between chuckles, struggling to calm down. He leaned back, causing the floor to creak. His chair rocked backwards and forwards precariously on one leg until it eventually slowed to a stop as the laughter in the room died.

Mandarine's mom turned to gaze at him with a smile full of pride. "M'little virtuoso, we know you're a hard worker and genuinely believe you're not special. But going to school with these kids can only benefit you! Your dad and I know for a _fact_ that you are qualified."

"Plus, even if they can't teach you, you can always drop out and ask for a refund."

Mandarine quickly finished chewing, swallowed, and opened his mouth to object, but the closed it immediately afterwards as he couldn't think of any valid arguments. They were right. If he had fire abilities this was his chance; if not, he could always drop out.

He sighed and nodded reluctantly.

Mandarine had fell from his chair in shock when he discovered which school his parents wanted him to enroll in and how much the tuition costed. Yet no matter how hard he tried to reason with them, his parents insisted he'd go.

So now, here he was, standing outside of the most prestigious school for special children in the world, Rainbow Lotus Academy for Noteworthy Children with Great Potential, with a crumpled up ball of notes in his left hand, a violin case in his right, and his family's only (leather) backpack strapped over his shoulders, containing nothing more than a few music sheets and a book of Chinese poems.

He could possibly be staying here for the next nine years. He had brought everything he owned; he hoped it was enough.

He took a deep breath, walked up to the red-painted school gates, and tugged on the two, golden-painted, hoop-shaped handles.

Locked.

He was too early.

He heard the sound of voices behind him. Turning away from the gates that had refused to let him through, he saw perhaps the fanciest horse-drawn carriage in the world. It looked like it had been sucked straight out of a fantasy book.

The door to the carriage opened. A short, chubby boy who looked about a year younger than he was stepped outside, still in conversation with someone, presumably his father. Mandarine had expected someone with a more… Refined taste to own such a stylish carriage. Instead, this boy was wearing a plain, black jacket, and, underneath it, a shirt that had neon green and white stripes. It hurt Mandarine's eyes a little. He also had on red athletic shorts with white stripes and was now swatting away at what appeared to be his father's hand attempting to fix his extremely curly hair, which was long enough to skim the upper part of his neck. (His father only made it look worse and had knocked his hat askew.) Without realizing, Mandarine's reached upward with his right hand and smoothed out his own hair. It was a little longer than the child's, very thick, and very wild. Mandarine hadn't trimmed his hair in ages; he couldn't afford a barber and the last time he attempted to cut his own hair, he had been four years old. Predictably, being a four year old, it didn't go very well, so he decided not to bother again afterwards and now had crazy, poorly layered hair that curled upwards in random places. He genuinely liked his hair despite its craziness, especially his fringe, which his mom had forced him to brush back earlier that morning. Of course, Mandarine's fringe does what it wants, and it was once again threatening to obscure his right eye.

The kid was finally able to escape from his father's grasp, and was waved as the carriage gradually escaped from view. Then, he turned around and walked to Mandarine.

"Hi." His voice was surprisingly deep, and he smiled a pleasant, closed mouth smile. "My name is Applo. What's your name?"

Mandarine smiled back, glad that the first person he met at school wasn't extremely intimidating. "My name is Mandarine. Nice meeting you."

"Mandarine. Wow, what a cool name!" Applo stared blankly into the distance for a moment, fixing his red, polka-dotted baseball cap by turning it backwards. "What's your ability?"

Mandarine contemplated not telling him for a moment. Then he realized his "secret" would get out anyway, so he may as well spill it now. Plus, Applo didn't seem like the type to judge. He was too innocent and too friendly, not bothering with the snot dangling from his nostril. Better to tell someone like this than someone who would look down at him for being different.

"I don't have an ability," he confessed, "I was born into a very poor, normal family; my father, my grandfather, and my grandfather's father were all ordinary people." He sighed.

Applo sighed too. "I wish I were as lucky as you are. I'm a Geo. I was born into a very high-ranking Geo family; my father, my grandfather, and my grandfather's father were all extremely rich, accomplished Geo warriors. My dad says the only way to get rich is to be an accomplished Geo. I wish my family were as lame as yours!"

Mandarine stared at him for a moment, bewildered.

"My dad told me I have to get into Lotus no matter what," Applo continued, "He says they have the best teachers and can teach you some pretty cool fighting moves, if you enroll in the Kung Fu program and are willing to learn. My dad had a Kung Fu student smuggle him books every week, and now he's, according to himself and a few other people, a national war hero."

"Who's your dad?"

"Not sure. They call him Mr. Lu. Nicknamed the Mud Phoenix."

Mandarine's mouth dropped agape. This kid definitely _did_ come from a prestigious family! Finally finding his voice, he was about to ask Applo how in the _entire known universe_ did he not know who his father was when he was interrupted by the jingling of coins.

He turned around to see a boy, older than Applo but younger than him, trudging towards them. He was quite tall, four inches or so taller than Mandarine, and wore a very loose, yellow shirt made of sheer fabric over a generic, long-sleeve white T. He was sweating a river and panting like a dog, dragging behind him a pretty large sack full of what Mandarine assumed to be coins. Mandarine knew that he himself would easily be able to pull the money around, but this kid was rather skinny, so it was no surprise that hauling all that gold around would be difficult. Not that Mandarine wasn't skinny; he was, but he had tons of muscle.

The boy waved to them two with a toothy grin. He let go of his sack, walked up to the gate, and gave it a shove. When it didn't budge, he made an expression of annoyance, then shrugged it off with a smile and used his left hand to flick his fringe out of his eyes. That's when Mandarine noticed his hair. It wasn't very thick, but it was longer than Mandarine's by almost two entire inches, and a lot better layered. The boy had a right-side part and a rather long fringe, which allowed him to keep hair out of his face, something Mandarine's hairstyle didn't allow him to do. It looked nice, but Mandarine had a feeling that it wasn't…Mandarine, and he would never wear it himself. It was too distinctly… This kid, whatever his name was.

Perhaps the most notable thing about his hair was the color.

This was definitely an intriguing kid.

"Hi, my name is Mandarine, and this is Applo. And, uh, how exactly did you get your hair like that?"

The boy turned around, grinned, and bent over to dust off his eminence-colored jeans. "It's just purple hair dye. Isn't that what you used for that?" He pointed the index finger of his left hand towards his mouth, and the one of his right towards Mandarine's fringe. Without warning, Mandarine was shot in the face by an onslaught of water.

"Oops, sorry. Wrong hand." The stream of water quickly subsided, leaving Mandarine soaking wet and disgruntled while the boy suppressed a laugh. His grin faded momentarily as grabbed his left forearm with his right hand, shook it like mad, and then proceeded to feed himself water by spraying it out of his left forefinger. "This is normal for me. I've gotten used to it."

Mandarine felt his anger begin fade. The kid's action peeved him, but he quickly realized he couldn't bring himself to be mad about it for long. The gregarious boy had a certain charm that made him very likeable and easy to talk to, despite his quirks. He had to admit he was quite lucky that these two were the first two people he met at school.

"Anyway, your hair?"

"Oh." Mandarine had momentarily forgotten about what they'd been talking about. "It's sun-bleached." He once again reached up to his hair, which was a dark brown transitioning to a ruddy orange near the tips. "There were some citrus trees on our property when we moved in. I used some of the juice and was able to get my hair to look a bit less disgusting." Mandarine remembered regretting his decision almost instantly. Nothing could be spared or wasted. His parents never noticed and didn't reprimand him, but it only made his guilt worse.

"To be completely honest, your hair isn't terrible, but it definitely isn't great. We can work on it." Mandarine didn't know whether to thank him or be offended, so he didn't say anything.

"What about my hair?" Applo chimed, talking off his hat and walking over to Pineapplello, smiling softly. Mandarine shamefully admitted to himself that he had briefly forgotten Applo was there.

Pineapplello ran his fingers through Applo's wild curls, unamused. "Honestly, your hair is terrible. But there's nothing anyone can do about it, so it's sticking."

"My hair is terrible? Did you just say my hair was terrible?" Applo put his hat back on, clearly offended. Moments before Mandarine had been questioning whether or not Applo could physically be angry, but he now he knew he could. Applo was quite scary when he was upset, glaring at Pineapplello with a gaze that would probably phase just about anyone else.

Not Pineapplello. He glared right back and haughtily retorted, "Maybe I did!"

"Calm down both of you!" Mandarine intervened, shoving them apart. Applo's anger vanished immediately and he went back to smiling his foolish smile. Pineapplello staggered, nearly losing his balance, and, for a moment, he looked like a volcano about to erupt. Then he calmed down with one glance at Applo.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is it physically possible for someone to calm down do much so quickly?" he mouthed to Mandarine.

Mandarine shrugged. "Applo's something. He's nice until you offend him."

Pineapplello grinned, narrowed his eyes, and playfully bonked Mandarine in the head.

"Hey! It's true!" Mandarine couldn't help but laugh. He was infinitely glad he had met these two people on the first day, and not someone much, much worse. Pineapplello was insensitive but very easygoing, while Applo was the definition of good-natured. Something told him that the two would soon become close friends, despite the initial quarrel.

For the very first time, Mandarine didn't feel like an outcast. He had finally found his people.

He hadn't expected it to be someplace like here.

"Wait, you're a normie? I couldn't tell at all!" Pineapplello exclaimed. They were being led into the academy by a squat little man with a bowl cut who called himself Master Melon, and Applo and Pineapplello were deep in conversation. Mandarine had tuned them out in order to listen to Master Melon recite the history of the academy. Apparently the school was originally called QianKun Academy for Noteworthy Children with Great Potential, but the name was changed after five accomplished Botanos from their school planted the sacred Rainbow Lotus atop the Mountain Of Fruit And Flowers.

"Shhhhhhh, yes, I'm a normie." Mandarine replied in a hushed voice, turning his head so Pineapplello could hear. Even though the number of new students this year was, according to Melon, less than a quarter of the usual turnout, Mandarine still didn't feel comfortable talking about his ordinariness in front of them all.

Pineapplello blinked. "Wow, I genuinely thought you were a Pyro," he whispered back.

"I'm normal."

Pineapplello raised an eyebrow. "But then, why are you here? You _have_ to have some power!"

Mandarine sighed, beginning to feel slightly annoyed. He turned his head back and forced himself to focus on Melon, trying to ignore his friend's comment and failing. This was a conversation he would soon be forced to have with his parents, one that he wished he could postpone for eternity.

Without turning around, he shot back through clenched teeth, "Listen. I'm not a Pyro, or anything else. I'm ordinary. Nobody believes me when I tell them." His voice was stern, but not hostile. Pineapplello wasn't purposefully aggravating him, but that didn't mean he didn't offend him.

A heavy silence fell between the two. Mandarine found himself staring at Master Melon, but not digesting anything that he was saying.

He could feel two pairs of eyes boring into the back of his skull. After a moment, Pineapplello spoke again.

"It's not fun, is it?" his voice grew very soft, as if he were scared that if he talked to loud Mandarine would shatter into pieces.

Mandarine look down at his feet. His hands balled into fists and he found himself glaring at the ground, trying to push away his anger and not blow his top at his friend. He was much stronger than his friend was giving him credit for. He could take being looked down upon, he could take bullies, he was strong enough. He couldn't take soppy emotions. He hated being pitied, hated people being nice to him just because he was weak. Which is why he hid his weaknesses, why he didn't let anyone know what was going on inside his head.

He finally managed to calm himself and said, without looking at his friend,

"It's not as fun as being a Pyro."

When Applo offered to pay Mandarine and Pineapplello's tuition for them, Pineapplello squealed so loud everyone stopped filling in their paperwork to stare at him.

"All that money I earned playing sax on the streets- I can invest it!" He gave his two friends a big hug.

Mandarine politely refused the offer, but Applo insisted. Now Mandarine had to figure out what to do with the money, because he couldn't return it to his parents without them telling him he should've paid for his tuition himself.

The teachers determined the students' roommates. Three to a room.

Mandarine was given his slip of paper by the female teacher Mistress Oracle. "You'll like it," she whispered, winking at him. Embarrassed, he backed away. Once he was out of eyeshot of Oracle, he looked at it; on it, written in neat cursive, were the names _"BoLo, Pineapplello"_ and _"Lu, Applo"_.

There were three girls at the back of the group.

Three of them.

He could've been staring at any of them. Of course, being Mandarine and having the worst luck in the world, he found himself staring at the Electro aristocrat.

As soon as he became aware of what he was doing he panicked and looked away as fast as he could, hoping she didn't notice him.

She did.

A poor, ordinary boy with no redeeming qualities. And the aristocrat.

Before long, Mandarine was the last person left. Everyone else had gone into the classrooms that corresponded with their abilities. Applo joined three other Geos in a building on the far east of the school, while Pineapplello and twelve others didn't even have a proper building and were instead led to a tent made around a pool of water.

Master Melon was murmuring with Master Banana, a tall, elegant male teacher with light brown hair, about how strange it was for there to not be a single new Pyro this year when he saw Mandarine and stopped mid-sentence. "There's our Pyro," Master Banana replied smugly.

Mandarine sighed. He didn't want to be having this conversation _again,_ not today. The first time had been bad enough.

"I'm not a Pyro. Nor am I any of these types of people." Mandarine paused expectantly, hoping they got the message.

Master Banana raised an eyebrow.

He was going to have to embarrass himself in front of these people, too.

"I'm-"

"We got the message," Master Melon interrupted irritably, "Just know that the only reason why we're letting you stay is because of the low student turnout. We're already extremely under budget; we need every penny and we can't afford to have you leave."

Mandarine dropped the money his parents gave him at their feet.

Mandarine wished they wouldn't talk about him as if he weren't there.

He also wished they wouldn't refer to him as the "ordinary kid".

The teachers thought they were being secretive about it, but Mandarine could hear every word they were saying. They were discussing what to "do with" him, and Master Banana was upset at Master Melon for letting the "ordinary kid" stay.

"I can't believe you."

"We need the funds! At least the ordinary kid's got money. Heck, he paid double!"

"I'll have you know that he had a _friend_ pay for him!"

"And you were much better."

"That was thirty years ago!"

"And you _still_ haven't paid me back!"

"How does this have to do with the ordinary kid?"

"Nothing!"

"Then why are we discussing this?"

"Look, I let him stay, my mistake. But if I let him go, Nutty will come after me!"

"Well, you letting him stay means _I,_ being the academy coordinator, will have to figure out something to do with him! We don't teach ordinary kids! I've never taught an ordinary kid in my entire life! Neither has anyone else in this damned academy! And don't you dare tell me _you_ have because _I know you haven't_!"

"I-"

"Calm down, you two, calm down." A deep, gentle voice softly interrupted them. It reminded Mandarine of an early morning breeze on a hot summer day and brought upon him a feeling of tranquility and content. The two immediately stopped their quarrelling. Mandarine looked up; drifting above him, fifteen feet off the ground, was a bald old man with a smooth, six inch beard, clothed in a brown, silk-dragon robe.

He gently descended besides Mandarine, carrying with him an air of silent power. Mandarine suddenly realized this was the Headmaster Nutty the two were talking about. Strangely, though, he didn't seem nutty at all.

"Obviously this kid is coming with me."

Mandarine took that thought back.

The two teachers slowly turned towards each other and blinked. Mandarine saw Melon mouth "is he mad" to Banana and suddenly felt self-conscious about "eavesdropping".

But he wasn't the only person paying attention to the exchange. Nutty let out a deep, low, rumbly laugh. "No, I'm not insane. I've studied ordinary fighting techniques before. I'm the only one who can teach him. So I will."

The two teacher slowly look back at him and nod. Mandarine saw in their eyes shame and a tinge of jealousy, and suddenly he realized how privileged he was to be learning under the headmaster at all.

Nutty closed his eyes, put his hands behind his back, turned around, and began drifting back to his quarters.

"Do keep up, Mandarine. You're already here, we have to teach you something even if those two don't want to."

Mandarine turned around and followed him, feeling the two teachers glare into the back of his skull.

Mandarine was just an ordinary kid. He had no idea what he did to deserve this honor.


End file.
